The Uses of Aversity
by Alomoria
Summary: Set during the Dominion Occupation of the space station Deep Space Nine, a new arrival begins to shake things up in his quest for reuniting with his people-The Founders. With a Resistance trying to destroy Weyoun and Dukat's control, will the newcomer's visit be poorly timed? Or fated by the Prophets? (OC as one of The One Hundred, but does not strictly revolve around him.)
1. Chapter One: New Arrival

He stood there, duffle bag slung across his shoulder as he blew a tuft of hair out of his eyes. He could feel the tension of the place, not at all what he had hoped to see as he finally came to visit. A rough looking Andorian brushed past him and he quickly stepped out of the entrance of the docking bay. He almost forgot he had just stopped there in the middle of the foyer. Shaking a head at himself he turned and noted the Jem'Hadar soldiers standing at the entrance of the promenade. There was a Cardassian soldier ushering out the other passengers as quick as he could, gruffing out orders.

He stood there tsk'ing softly to himself at the scene. Yes, this was definitely _not_ what he had in mind, though it was his own fault for having procrastinated this visit in the first place. He had hoped the conflict between the Cardassians and Bajorans would have been the end and leave him a peaceful interlude for this momentous occasion but no…he had been naïve. In his lifetime he knew better than to think war would cease to be a constant. And now as the _new_ war waged by the Dominion was waxing, it had finally reached its sick tendrils to this space station. He steeled himself and began to walk forward, careful not to upset the Jem'Hadar as he passed with the small influx of passengers, herded like Earth sheep by the soldiers.

He had heard many good things about this place, about Deep Space Nine. Or _Terok Nor_ as the new 'owners' were inclined to name it. He rolled his eyes at that, a human habit he had picked up and never got rid of. He went along and sat down at a table in front of what was once a Klingon restaurant. He set his bag to his side and gathered in his surroundings, a practice he often did when arriving someplace new. He liked to get the feel of the place, understand who lived there.

He didn't really like the current feeling here though.

He had come a long way, and now that he was finally here he was unsure if this had been a wise choice. Guards were posted practically in every nook and cranny. The promenade was almost deserted aside from those few shops that remained open and of course the replomat had retained its foot traffic. In dark times he knew people gravitated to two things: distraction and food.

He sighed, once again wondering why he was here, rhetorically speaking. He knew _why_ , it was just a question why he decided it was now or never. He clenched the bag now in his lap and tried to steady himself. He felt such a strong pull toward this place, an instinct. And he had followed it.

Now he needed only to find the Ones he had been searching for all this time. That was why he was here, without a doubt.

He gazed down at his freckled wrists, now all of a sudden self-conscious. What if they did not like him? What if…what if he wasn't doing this right? He touched his face gingerly. He supposed he looked well-enough, his friends had told him so. It had taken him such a long time to make himself look…normal. But he was getting some rather strange looks now from various soldiers who were stationed about. If he had a heart, surely it would be beating out of his chest.

He felt stared at, and usually he didn't care one wit, as he had learned to overcome such insecurities. In fact, he made a living by keeping the rapt attention of his audience. But not here. Perhaps because he was alone. He hadn't been alone in such a long time, having made a plethora of friends and been welcomed by those who knew of him. _But here?_ Deep Space Nine was a long way from his home, his friends and reputation. Here he was just another waif, a tiny star flickering inside the heart of a galaxy.

He ran a hand through his hair and silently prayed that somehow he would not mess this up.

Jake had just sat down at Quark's bar when Kira joined him. It surprised him to say the least, as she had been avoiding him the past few days. She was getting restless, trying to plan some kind of attack or up rise and she did not appreciate Jake's criticisms. Jake was just playing devil's advocate though, as well as trying to cool her temper. This wasn't just some Cardassian occupation like before. This war was with the Dominion. And Jake had noticed early on that while the Jem'Hadar were somewhat mindless drones set on killing, the Vorta were far more clever, cunning and somewhat ruthless. They were extremely dedicated and didn't let pride cloud their minds. And that made them dangerous, as their main goal in life seemed to be pleasing their Founders. So _yeah_ , Jake was going to let Kira know she was a little over her head this time.

"You see him?" Kira said in a low voice as Quark joined them, wiping a glass with a cloth absently. With the station now overrun with the Dominion and lacking regular patrons, Quark was up for anything to rescue him from the dullness.

Jake looked at her, as did Quark. "Who?"

Kira drummed her fingers on the counter, staring ahead at nothing but looking impatient.

" _Him_ , over there, by the replomat." She strained in almost a whisper.

The two followed her gaze to the man sitting all by himself, clutching an old duffle bag.

" _Don't look at him_!" Kira hissed, startling the two back to her. "Don't be so _obvious_." She huffed in explanation.

"Psht, what about him Nerys? He's looks like a plain old space drifter." Jake snorted into his glass of root beer.

"Plus," Quark added without a second glance, "he looks broke."

"I checked the roster of his ship and it stated there were five Bajorans, three Cardassians, an Andorian—" Kira whispered but Jake cut her off.

"So? Neutral traders and incoming soldiers, what else is new?" Jake said, offering the glass to Quark to fill up. The Ferengi bartender crinkled his nose, as he still hated the Terran drink himself. But to each his own, and money was money. At least Nog had the decency to teach the boy how to charge for his services on the station so he could have some kind of currency on hand. Terra may be an 'enlightened' world bent on 'bettering' themselves rather than filling their pockets, but news flash: the rest of the galaxy didn't work like that.

"Will you two let me finish?!" Kira hissed again, and then paused as a couple Jem'Hadar who were standing turned their heads to the trio, but staying put beside Weyoun as the Vorta looked over reports on his PADD at a table.

"As I was going to say," Kira nearly gritted her teeth, "The roster also registered a _human_. Him."

" _So?_ " Jake and Quark replied in unison, making the major roll her eyes.

" _So?_ So it's unusual isn't it? A _human_ coming aboard the station? Do you think he's a Starfleet spy? To help overthrow the occupation? Take back the station?"

Quark sighed and poured her some Deka tea, to calm her frayed nerves if nothing else.

Jake had to hand it to her, it _was_ really unusual for a human to be aboard now. He himself was an exception of course, but practically every human had evacuated when his father left with the Defiant. It was simply because the humans that used to be here were also Starfleet in some capacity. But this guy…he was different.

The man looked young, only a few years older than Jake, but he looked like what his grandpa would call an "old soul". Even from this distance he looked worn and tired. Perhaps his clothes had something to do with it, Jake surmised. He had a couple layers on, the outermost being a baggy trenchcoat-looking item. And his pants and shoes looked odd too, somehow archaic. Jake had seen similar clothing, but only in his research into Earth history for a few of his stories.

The man also had incredibly bright hair; it looked like a sunset almost. And even from here Jake could make out numerous freckles. It also seemed the sparse few individuals left on the station were subtly eyeing the man who seemed in a daze himself. Not much goes unnoticed at times like these, Jake supposed.

" _Hyuuu-mahns_. I know they aren't _all_ sunshine and flowers. Is it so unlikely the man is just another no-good drifter?" Quark supplied, leaning on the counter casually. Jake made a face at him.

"Yes. Because why would he be _here_?" Kira was gripping her glass tightly. Morn, who was sitting on her other side, scooted a bit away from her. She—thankfully—didn't notice.

Well, again she had a point. If anything, people were now _avoiding_ the station. That is, anyone who wasn't neutral in this war, especially a Federation species.

"Go talk to him." Kira basically ordered Jake.

"What?!" Jake yelped, taken off guard. This caught Weyoun's attention, and he glanced at them, a curious gleam in his bright violet eyes. His eyes narrowed just so, and he turned back to his reports. But Jake was sure he was listening now more than reading anything on that tablet.

Kira glared at Jake for the outburst. Jake smiled sheepishly and shrugged in apology.

"See what he's doing here." Kira ordered again and Jake sucked his teeth and grumbled a 'fine' as he got up from his stool. Quark shook his head as he began wiping the counter, barely containing a smirk.

"Hey." Jake called to the man as he walked over. The guy seemed to be snapped out of his reverie and looked at Jake up and down. He then hedged a small smile and a little wave.

"Mind if I sit here?" Jake asked, and the man gestured he was welcomed to.

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine." Jake asked, but caught the glare of a Cardassian not far off the way. "Uh, I mean Terok Nor." Jake amended without enthusiasm. The man smiled kindly at him, as if in understanding.

"Thank you. I'm happy to see some light in this place after all." He replied, and Jake immediately took a liking to the guy. It was more than an off-hand compliment. The man had such bright green eyes, filled with a warmth and kindness Jake was unused to seeing in people, especially these days. Jake could tell he was a good guy, whoever he was.

"I'm Jake Sisko." Jake offered his hand and the man happily took it with a firm grip.

"I'm Milo. Nice to meet you, Jake." Milo said with a grin, finally at ease.

Weyoun set his report down. The war was going well, but their hold was slipping. If they were unable to disable the minefield preventing their troops from entering through the wormhole, then not only would their side suffer but Weyoun would be personally held responsible. And while he was no glutton for pain, the knowledge that he failed the Founders would be hardest to bear.

He slowly cast his gaze to Sisko's son, who was now talking with one of the latest arrivals to the station. Considering the conversation he witnessed (but was just far enough away from which he heard nothing of consequence sadly) he surmised this human talking to Jake was of some undetermined importance. He made a mental note to investigate. It was obvious the human male was different—anyone with eyes, even ones as weak as a Vorta's, could see that.

He tapped the table as he thought about some other concerning topics. He knew storms were brewing in that Bajoran Major's mind. But because she had favor with Dukat (through no effort of her own, Weyoun knew) she was practically immune to any investigating. And she was the only true threat on this station. Jake Sisko was more determined to fight this war with words than phasers, and those two ferengi—he eyed Quark as he fussed with Rom about fixing the coolant of a replicator—weren't suited for the rage of war. And lastly Odo, Weyoun hoped, would return to the ideals of his people soon enough.

Of course, this Vorta had no intention of by-passing any suspects. He would keep an ear out since the Cardassians weren't doing it. Damar seemed to be the only one suspicious enough to take any action but too drunk to actually do anything. Weyoun rolled his eyes thinking of the Dominion's supposed 'prized' allies. But far be it from him to question the wisdom of the Founders, for they knew best in all things.

It was then that the Sisko boy led the newcomer to the bar. Well, perhaps Weyoun wouldn't have far to go to find out who this human was…to determine if he was a threat or not. Starfleet was learning to get sneaky—and _desperate_. Anything was a possibility.

"Hey guys, I wanted you to meet Milo. _Milo_ , this is Major Kira Nerys, Quark, and Rom." Jake said and Kira rubbed her hand over her face, making Quark chuckle as he greeted the new hyu-man on the block.

Kira was so stressed out; she gave Jake _one job_. Just find out who and what the man was doing here. And he brings him into the heart of the bar which was currently inhabiting a load of Jem'Hadar, Cardassians and of course _Weyoun_. These people knew nothing of secrecy or functioning as a productive resistance.

"It's a pleasure." Kira sighed with a half-hearted smile and shake of Milo's hand as was customary with the humans. She then got up, ready to go to her quarters and scream into her pillow until she passed out when Odo walked in. Her eyes brightened considerably, making Quark want to vomit since he himself did not appreciate the changeling's presence.

Weyoun's heart sped up at seeing the Founder enter. He _so_ wished Odo liked him better. But somehow everything Weyoun did seemed to upset his god. The Female Founder at least told him he was doing good work every now and then, so he knew when he was on the right track. Of course, that was more of an evaluation rather than genuine compliment, but Weyoun would take what he could get. However, the Vorta was lucky to get a grumpy huff from Odo. He was tempted to go over and ask the Founder if there was anything he needed. But he stopped himself, knowing there was a fine line between being a faithful servant and being a right nuisance. Oh how he envied Kira. She found favor despite snapping back at her superiors, especially Dukat, to whom she practically radiated hatred for. And Odo seemed to gravitate to her as well. Weyoun did all he could to please his Founders, especially Odo, but got nowhere. Life was ironic, it seemed.

"Major." Odo nodded, hands clasped behind him. "Quark, Rom. Jake." He greeted the others. He then gazed at the new addition to their group, a lanky Terran by the looks of him. Jake snapped to attention at the drawn out silence.

"Er, this is Milo, Odo." Jake fumbled the introduction. Odo merely nodded. Milo clutched his duffle bag that hung at his shoulder and waved lamely.

"I was looking for you, Kira. I'd like to talk to you about…some things." Odo said with meaning and the major caught on.

"Oh but wait, I was hoping you could help me arrange some quarters for Milo, Kira." Jake asked. Odo looked impatient all of a sudden. He then remembered seeing Weyoun as he came in. He turned his head to the Vorta who was doing a fair job of trying to look immersed in his PADD.

"Weyoun." Odo called gruffly. The Vorta looked up, quite surprised at being addressed. He was beside Odo in an instant, giving his little bow as he always did.

"How may I serve you, Founder?" Weyoun asked, seemingly happy to do anything Odo asked, which Milo noted made Odo look uncomfortable. Milo felt like such a bother right then, being the indirect cause of this.

"I need you to assign…Mr. Milo...some quarters. I have station business to discuss with the Major." Odo ordered and Weyoun bowed again.

"It will be done, Founder."

Odo huffed at the unwanted designation, and then left up the stairs with Kira. Weyoun gazed after them a moment before turning to the human named Milo.

"If you'll follow me." Weyoun said, and he led Milo out and to the lifts leading to the habitat ring where some (many now that the station was deserted) empty compartments were.

"I'll come by later!" Jake called after, resuming his seat at the bar.

"He needs a better hobby than Odo." Quark commented, still looking after the two.

Jake laughed. "Well, you know how it is when you idolize someone."

"That's the thing, what is there to idolize? Hmm? Bland fashion sense? Looks like Weyoun has that covered already."

Jake laughed again. "Well, it gives us an edge." he replied softly with a smirk.

"And we need any help we can get, brother." Rom added, finally speaking up.

Quark snorted. "Yeah, I guess so. Anything to bring back business."


	2. Chapter Two: Fitting In

Milo followed the little alien quietly. He could tell he was being studied by him, even if he wasn't being obvious about it. Milo was preoccupied however with the fact that this guy—Weyoun was it?—seemed somewhat important and yet _groveled_ at the Changeling's feet. That was somewhat peculiar, to Milo at least. From the sparse legends and personal encounters he had had, folks never usually regarded shapeshifters with quite such reverence and splendor. Modern cultures, at least. But then, beings in this part of space were incredibly odd anyways. Including himself.

Milo had hoped to talk to Odo, so at least the brief introduction a few minutes before had been a start. He was one of The Ones he was looking for. He could _feel_ it. And it helped that everyone who was paying attention to the war knew Odo was in fact a Changeling. Even before the war, he had heard stories here and there as he drifted of the security officer at the lone space station in the middle of nowhere. And now it was a regular hot spot in the Alpha Quadrant. It had made Milo's search far easier in ways. Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment…

Milo almost tripped as the floor became raised, and decided that now was not a time for deep thought. Weyoun paused a beat in his step, looking at Milo oddly as if he hadn't seen a clumsy human before.

"Whoops," Milo sheepishly said as they continued down a corridor, "I'm a bit space-sick from my trip."

"There is a twenty-six-hour medical facility should you need it, located on the promenade." Weyoun suggested. They took a turn. Milo making mental notes so as not to get himself lost.

"Thanks." Milo said sincerely with a smile. Weyoun nodded back, but with a hint of suspicion. Milo got the feeling that not many people were nice to the little guy.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Weyoun began after a moment, though it was a tone Milo had heard before that said he better answer regardless of pleasantries, "What brings you to Terok Nor?"

Milo saw a calculating gleam in the other's vibrant violet eyes and sighed to release some trepidation he was currently feeling.

"I'm here to meet some…family." Milo said vaguely. Weyoun seemed unfazed yet somewhat perplexed by that answer. They stopped in front of a door. But Weyoun peered at Milo a moment more, trying to determine his angle, if any.

"Uh…lose something over here?" Milo lamely joked.

"No." Weyoun looked at him oddly again, not getting the joke, and turning back to his PADD, tapping in some codes. "These will be your assigned quarters. I trust you'll look over the new implemented regulations set by the Dominion for this station so as to get used to living in…a _non-Federation_ environment." He smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. For some reason that made Milo feel bad for him; it was as if he had to smile like that often, but had rarely experienced real joy.

"Oh that'll be no problem. I'm not from the Federation." Milo grinned. Weyoun simply stared at him.

"What?"

"I'm not a Fed." Milo joked, but once again it went over the alien's head.

"But you're _human_ …"

"What? _No way._ " Milo chuckled. "I'm not human." He was relieved he could pass for one, and was amused this little alien was now thoroughly annoyed at his antics.

"Scans tell me otherwise." Weyoun smiled again, but it had an edge. He clasped his pale hands together, assuming his normal, passive stance. But his eyes flashed just so. This sobered Milo up quite well.

"Ah well…ya' got me." Milo decided to let it go with an awkward shrug. He really didn't want his cover blown anyway. This little one seemed rather close to The Ones and he wasn't prepared to reveal himself just yet.

" _Indeed_." And with that Weyoun left promptly without another word. Milo sighed at himself, he hadn't meant to make him that mad, but he supposed people weren't that playful around here.

He felt a tugging at his chest and his form lose cohesion a tiny bit, and so went inside his new place. He found the bed and stood there gazing through his window. The stars were so beautiful…it filled him with a calming peace. If nothing else went right, if everyone in the galaxy were fighting...he took comfort in knowing the stars sparkled the same way in the same place and remained just as beautiful.

He took an old mason jar from his bag, a jar he had been given some time ago, and set it right on the windowsill. He then knelt beside it and continued to gaze at the beautiful sight outside.

"Computer: dim lights to 10%." He softly ordered and he was then in almost complete darkness aside from the glow from the nebulae and stars coming from the window. He gently took out a small picture frame holding a photo that had been taken with his friends before he had left for this journey. He brushed the frame with a thumb and smiled sadly at the stationary faces grinning back, stuck in an almost perfect moment in time. He then set it beside the clunky old jar.

Without further delay, Milo turned into his liquid state and squelched into the jar, content to sleep through his regeneration cycle and dream.

* * *

Milo decided to get up and about early the next day. His cycle only lasted so long, and as he didn't need any sort of other traditional rest, he went onto the second deck of the promenade to star-gaze. It was a treasured past-time, and the view here was even more captivating than the one from his quarters.

It was so early though. Most of the shops were still closed, and the lights were admittedly dimmer than during usual hours. The only beings traversing other than him was Quark in his bar, recounting his profits and preparing to open up, Odo in his office, going over reports (and awaiting the arrival of Kira) and of course Weyoun, who was sitting alone at a table at the replomat. The small Vorta was nursing a cup of something Milo wasn't able to determine by simply glancing at, but Weyoun seemed to enjoy it as he was going over yet more reports on his tablet.

Milo shook his head slightly, not able to see himself living such a life, and turned back to the stars. But loneliness quickly took hold of his heart. And for some instinctual reason he couldn't fathom, he felt drawn to the Dominion administrator.

"Good morning."

Weyoun slowly looked up wide eyed at the new company he found himself with. He knew Milo had been approaching him, his ears were keen on that, but he was still surprised by the fact this human had the gumption to actually greet him and sit down at his table. The Jem'Hadar near him growled and were about to remove this 'threat' to their leader when Weyoun waved them off silently and returned the greeting, curious where this would go.

"And to you, Mr. Milo."

Milo snorted and leaned back in his chair, his rumpled coat making him look like a vagabond. "No need for the 'mister' part, you can just call me Milo." He grinned. Weyoun tilted his head in acceptance of the permission. In his head he was reeling. Literally every human he had ever spoken with had some sort of distaste for him. Which wasn't entirely out of the question, he was one of the heads calculating this war against the Federation and their home world. _But still._ This human was different. He could feel it somehow. And for some reason, though the freckled human's actions screamed conspiracy, Weyoun was feeling inclined to trust him.

A tiny thought whispered hopes that he wasn't being defective…

"Whoa, you okay? You sorta spaced out there for a second." Milo asked and Weyoun snapped back to alertness. Milo was now leaning on his folded arms on the table, at complete ease. It baffled Weyoun to no end! Who did he think he was?! But then…he could tell the human's concern was genuine, and that in itself was a redeeming quality in the Vorta's eyes.

"I—'spaced out'?" Weyoun queried. What did that mean?

"Oh heh, it's old Earth slang, it just means you seemed…far away, in your thoughts." Milo shrugged with another smile. Weyoun filed this away for later. Despite being hated by nearly every human he had ever met, he still was secretly fascinated by their culture and their home world, Earth. He hoped to take charge of it once the Dominion won the war. That is, if he didn't have to destroy it first.

"I see." Weyoun simply replied. He then ventured a question of his own. "Why are you here?"

"Oh…uh.." Milo noticed the alien before him had narrowed his eyes just so, and he suddenly felt in a spotlight, being judged on what he would say next.

"I thought I told you…I'm here for fam-" Weyoun waved that answer aside.

" _No no_ , I mean _here_ …with _me_. Is there something you wanted?"

Milo blinked. "Um…no? I mean, I'd like the company…if that's okay?"

Weyoun tapped a finger three times on the table softly in thought.

"I can usually tell if someone is lying, Milo. What surprises me is that you aren't. Right _now_ anyway."

Milo sat up and back in his chair, crossing a leg on the other.

"I dunno to be offended by that or not." He huffed a laugh.

"Usually people of your…species…don't associate with me, considering circumstances as they are, you understand." Weyoun smiled oddly then, in a sneaky sort of way, as he intermingled his fingers on his lap.

"Ohhhh, you mean the war? Yeah, I mean, that's pretty dark stuff." Milo said, standing up to the panel next to them so he could order something.

Weyoun didn't know what to say to that.

"But I mean, what's that got to do with you?" Milo asked, taking his hot cup of cocoa back to the table and holding it in his hands for warmth. While being what he was meant he didn't get bothered by extremes in heat or cold (he didn't sweat and he had never gotten frostbite), he could still feel, and being around Normal Aliens (non-shapeshifters) had made him appreciate sensation while in their forms.

"You don't expect me to believe you're _that_ ignorant, do you?"

"You know, I'm starting to see why you're so paranoid about people wanting to hang out with you." Milo grumbled.

A muffled chuckle could be heard behind them faintly, from one of the Jem'Hadar, but Weyoun was too invested in this conversation to punish anyone at that moment.

"I am the Dominion Liaison to the Alpha Quadrant." Weyoun explained slowly.

"Cool for you." Milo smelled his cocoa and smiled dreamily into the steam. "And?"

Weyoun was continually befuddled by this particular human's language. The context was…odd. _Slang_ was it called? He'd have to make a point to study that later.

"And…this makes me a very important member of the Dominion War Effort as _Second in Command_." Weyoun smiled, feeling slightly puffed up at his own title. Why just a few clones ago he was a mere ship's operator, now he was in the big leagues! If only Keevan were here, he'd love to gloat in front of that _pompous_ , no good—

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"You're spacing out, man. Look, I uh…I don't make it a priority to study the inner machinations of an on-going war. They come and they go, and it's depressing. Especially this one." Milo replied softly, gazing at his slow-cooling cup.

"Depressing?"

"Well, yeah. All this death. On both sides. Doesn't that make you sad?"

Weyoun once again didn't know what to say to that.

"Weyoun."

They both turned to see a woman in a creamy dress of simple design approach their table. Weyoun jumped up with a blush and bowed respectfully to the woman, arms held up in an almost pious manner. This was same reaction Milo had seen the Vorta give to Odo the day before. Curious.

"Founder! It is a pleasure to see you this morning, I trust you are faring well?"

She only glanced at the shorter, practically groveling being that radiated such admiration and respect for her, and focused on Milo.

"And who is this?"

Weyoun snapped about to look at Milo, as if he had just appeared out of thin air.

"He's…Milo.." Weyoun blushed a light purple when he honestly knew very little about the human. "He is visiting family here on Terok Nor, and decided…to um, join me…as I went over this morning's latest reports. Which I was about to come and discuss with you—" He turned back around to her but she held up a hand and Weyoun immediately fell silent. Milo blinked in the abrupt obedience his new friend was showing.

Milo also knew he was being studied by the female as Weyoun chattered about some such business. It made him feel small and even more on edge. Maybe because she was also one of The Ones. He knew it by sight as well as by feeling. But he was too nervous to confront her yet. Or Odo. And so Milo kept up his human façade.

"I will look forward to your full report. I need you to meet with Dukat, it seems there is some news from the front that requires your expertise." She calmly explained, though it seemed to Milo she acted as if Weyoun was a tiresome thing to be endured. For some reason that rankled Milo's haunches. Well, if he really had any, it would. It was again odd to witness however, as Odo had behaved much the same way to the smaller alien. This was something Milo decided to figure out later.

"Y-yes, of course. As you wish." Weyoun bowed once again and the Female Changeling left with her entourage of Jem'Hadar, heading to Odo's office.

Weyoun looked after her in awe for a moment, then turned to Milo.

"I think it wise if you cease doing whatever it is you're trying to do."

Milo almost had whiplash by how quickly Weyoun had closed his emotions and put up another barrier.

"I'm not-!"

"You look young, and you're obviously capable of being genuine so I'll let this slide. _This time._ But I do not appreciate being spied on." He picked up his cup and drained its contents, set in back in the return, and then he and his tablet were gone.

Milo sat there, feeling more wind-swept than that time he had become a tumbleweed.

"Psst!"

Milo just didn't get it. What had just happened?

"Psst! Hey!"

Milo jumped a bit at the noise and turned to see a couple of Cardassian soldiers walking by, and then he had a clear view of Quark's, with said proprietor wiping a glass. But the Ferengi bartender was staring straight at Milo.

Milo looked both ways and saw no one else, then placed a finger on his chest in a motion questioning if Quark meant him.

Quark nodded and beckoned him impatiently.

Milo sauntered over, and flopped on a bar stool, still carrying his own cup which he had yet to enjoy.

"Hey, no outside food or drink." Quark complained.

"I literally just got this and I'm not about to waste a good cup of hot chocolate. Besides, _you_ asked _me_ over, so what do you want?" Milo quipped, a bit annoyed now by the odd visitation he had just had. He couldn't understand the constant pull he felt to the Vorta. It was similar to how he felt around the Changelings, but also unique. And to be pushed away surprisingly hurt, even though he barely knew any of them.

Quark grumped. "Fine. I called you over to give you a piece of friendly—and might I add _free_?—advice."

"I'm all ears." Milo replied, taking a sip of the warm liquid in his cup.

"Is that some kind of _joke_?"

"What? Oh—no, it's…nevermind." Milo rolled his eyes, feeling like a real sore thumb on this station already.

"Look, I don't know what angle you've got, but I'm certain it's going to be worth _zero_ if you're six feet under." Milo's eyes widened, surprised this Ferengi had an inkling of human catch phrases after all.

"Excuse me?"

"I saw you with Weyoun."

"And that's bad because…?"

"Are you an idiot?" Milo narrowed his eyes, what was it with people can calling him stupid this morning? "He's dangerous. And if _Starfleet's best_ can't gleam information from him, you can bet _you_ won't have much of a chance."

Things were starting to make sense now at least, but Milo didn't appreciate it regardless.

"I'm not trying to spy on him!" Milo practically yelled and Quark slapped him with his dirty damp rag.

" _Gross_!"

"Will you be _quiet_?!" Quark hissed. "I'm trying to _help_ you!" Quark continued to slap Milo with the ratty old dish rag.

"Hey, _hey hey_ _ **hey**_! What is going on here?!" Said a feminine and strong, no nonsense voice, and then in a flash of red fabric Milo saw an arm snatch the rag from Quark and throw it back at the barkeep's face.

"I would think assaulting customers was bad for business, Quark!" Kira shouted, thoroughly done with such antics so early in the morning. A younger woman stood beside her, a Cardassian by the looks of her though Milo noticed she had a ridge on her nose identical to Kira's. She could barely contain her humor at watching the two bicker.

Milo decided to take this opportunity to slink away from the establishment, and the girl caught his gaze and joined him.

"Hi!" She laughed. "I see you got on Quark's bad side for the time being." She chuckled.

Milo rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess so. He was being weird."

They walked along the strip casually, seeing the various shops still closed (and most would remain so now during the occupation).

"He's like that, but he's really a good person. Most of the time." The girl said. Milo wasn't so sure of that, but then she knew the Ferengi longer than Milo obviously did.

"You're new here, what's your name?" The girl continued the conversation, and Milo was relieved at the new company.

"I'm called Milo. How about you?"

"Tora Ziyal. It's nice to meet you!" She beamed, and she seemed so nice compared to the others of her race scattered about the station that Milo had seen.

"And you." Milo returned the enthusiastic smile. But then it faded. "Oh rat-snacks. I forgot my cup of hot chocolate at Quark's.

Ziyal giggled. "'rat-snacks?'"

Milo chuckled. "An old expression."

"Whatever does it mean?"

Milo was about to explain when Jake jogged up to them.

"Hey guys!" He panted.

"Hello, Jake. My, you're in a hurry this morning." Ziyal commented with warmth in her eyes for the taller boy. They seemed to be good friends Milo thought, and it made him a bit homesick just then.

"No, yeah I mean…I'm a bit out of shape, I guess. Nog would have fits if he knew." Jake laughed, putting a hand on his hip, the other holding a tablet. It reminded Milo how he wondered how they were all able to use such devices interchangeably. He supposed there was a translating program for the PADDs like there were implants or attachments to the physical station for verbal communication.

"I'm sure he'd understand. Not all of us are Starfleet material." Ziyal chuckled and the trio continued the stroll as they talked.

"Huh, tell that to him." Jake looked heavenward in mock aggravation for his friend.

Milo joined their laughter, his tension receding in the lighter mood they now shared.

But he could still feel a twist of confused aguish at the prospect of how his mission was faring so far. He bid them farewell, as Jake was going to grab breakfast and Ziyal was going to visit her father. Milo stood there, feeling lost. Then he decided to go back up to the second floor and look out the window a bit more.

His mission, as it was, was not going over too well. He had bumbled his first few friendships and while he seemed on good terms with the human boy and Cardassian girl, he supposed he was still on shaky ground with the Ferengi and the Vorta. Not to mention Odo seemed to not even think twice about his presence and the other changeling was unimpressed at best.

Not that this was a rational line of thinking, he was by all accounts human in their perceptions. But still. It was the principal of the thing. He was nervous, and a bit scared. So he wanted to size up these people before any Big Reveal. See if they liked him for who he was inside. Which may sound counterproductive with the whole secrecy thing, but hey he liked to wing it.

He crouched and sat down on the floor, staring at the stars and wishing, not for the first time, that he was back with his friends. Far away from problems and uncertainty.

 _Far away from here._


	3. Chapter Three: Curiosity Killed The Cat

"Father!" Weyoun almost jumped from the sudden shrill shout. He glanced at Ziyal as she and Dukat embraced, and he turned back to the stellar cartography panel that he was currently studying.

"Ziyal, my dearest." Dukat cooed and Weyoun made a face. He knew what that man was capable of, and to hear his voice be so _affectionate_ gave the little vorta the heebie jeebies. Ziyal seemed the only person on this station who didn't realize who her father really was. Either that, or she simply thought he had really 'changed'. Poor naïve thing.

"Am I disturbing you two? I can come back later." Ziyal politely asked and Dukat put an arm around her, ushering her closer to their work station.

"No no, we're done with our meeting. And it is always a pleasure to get a visit from you, isn't it Weyoun?" Weyoun hated being called out to join in a moment like this, but at least he could honestly answer "Yes, of course" without having to lie. He liked Ziyal. She was one of the very, _very_ few people who treated Weyoun with any sort of genuine friendship.

"Now then. We've got some more figures to go through but I'm free for lunch, how about that?" Dukat gave her his prize winning smile and she of course fell for it. Weyoun caught himself watching them, and was surprised to see a touch of truth behind Dukat's demeanor. Well, who wouldn't with Ziyal? She was an honest to goodness ray of sunshine. Even Weyoun thought so.

"Oh that's splendid." Ziyal beamed. Weyoun found himself mirroring her smile with one of his own. Dukat did as well.

"Oh, I was wondering, who was it that you and the Sisko boy were talking to?" Dukat asked in fake curiosity. Only Weyoun could clearly hear the sharp turn his voice had taken. The Vorta found himself fully facing the father-daughter pair, leaning against the panel and curious.

"The new human on the station; his name is Milo." Ziyal smiled. Weyoun almost fell over.

"Human? What's his business here?" Dukat's demeanor had darkened considerably.

"Oh father, don't be like that. He's a nice boy. Like Jake." She seemed to think nothing of it. Dukat wasn't going to let it go, Weyoun could tell.

"I want you to be careful around him, Ziyal. He could be a part of some plot to get to me." Dukat murmured but Ziyal patted his cheek to comfort him.

"I will, but you worry too much." The little Cardassian-Bajoran female replied. Weyoun could hardly believe the warmth in her eyes for someone like Dukat. But this news of her hanging around Milo…now that was interesting. The human was clever, moving from Weyoun to target the daughter of another Dominion leader, the ruler of the Cardassian Union no less. Very _interesting_.

"Oh, before I go, I was going to ask what your favorite color was, Weyoun." The Vorta blinked at being addressed.

"My…favorite color?"

"Yes, silly." Ziyal giggled. In his five lives Weyoun had never once been called 'silly', and oddly he didn't mind it coming from the girl. He didn't often interact with children, as they unnerved him a bit. He appreciated their laughter and pitter patter on the station though, as it was a good sign that their presence was being…normalized. But adolescents and those just beyond that were at the age that he had far less experience with. But she was pleasant enough, especially compared to the others on this station. Aside from his beloved Founders of course.

"Well uh…I..I've never thought about it before." Weyoun confessed. He then smiled at her to humor her. "You see, we Vorta lack a sense of…aesthetics." He folded his hands behind himself, assuming that would be that.

"Oh well, I'll figure out a color for you then. Maybe….blue! See you at lunch Dad." And out she went.

"Whatever was that about?" Weyoun asked softly of Dukat, curious once again.

"She apparently has an affinity for art." He smiled fondly at the fact. "I think she'd like to make something for you." Dukat explained as they looked after her retreating form. Weyoun turned back to the panel, at a loss on how to feel about that.

"Now then…let's look at these latest positions of my, er _our_ ships, and then we can discuss some strategy." Dukat continued, though his mood was admittedly happier. Weyoun joined him at the table. They may have some antagonistic feelings toward one another…but Weyoun had to admit, Dukat had a knack for battle tactics.

* * *

"You know, loitering is not allowed on the promenade." Gruffed a voice above him and Milo craned his neck to see who was speaking.

It was Odo, standing straight as a ruler and about just as stiff as one too. Hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes sunken into shadow because of the way the artificial lighting was placed in this corner. It reminded Milo of old black-and-white earth movies about the undead and supernatural.

"Technically, I'm star-gazing. That's a…scientific occupation of my time, wouldn't you say?" Milo grinned. Odo harrumphed as he looked about, then back down at what he assumed was a ragamuffin of a human young-adult. Though Milo had to concede that he had lost track of time and had probably been sitting there longer than was normal for any being, human or not.

"Well, you must 'star gaze' somewhere else, hmm?" Odo said and Milo sighed. It was then that they were joined by the Female Changeling.

"Odo, I wished to speak with you." she said in her soft voice. It wasn't alluring or even seductive, but it still drew Milo in. It was like a sort of echo from a whisper of a memory he seemingly lost long ago.

Milo then looked at them both, still sitting cross-legged on the floor. His every instinct begged him to touch them both, but Milo didn't understand it. And it frightened him. He wanted to know The Ones, learn who he was from them but…something else was stopping him. Milo had been around the block once or twice, and his common sense was screaming louder than any primal instinct, though both were strong. It was an internal conflict he wasn't entirely prepared to experience.

"I'm afraid I'm still on duty." Odo replied, in a tone that suggested it was an excuse rather than an actual reason. Again Milo wondered why this sort of derision existed between them, and with their aid the Vorta diplomat. It…disturbed him, to some extent.

The woman glanced down at Milo briefly, then nodded at Odo without any emotional response to the short dismissal. "Another time today, then." And she left them.

"Now then Milo, get along." Milo nodded obediently, avoiding the man's scrutinizing gaze, and stood up and walked in the opposite direction. He suddenly felt he was being watched though, and he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and looked around, finally spotting two piercingly vibrant orbs of violet staring back at him from across the way. Weyoun simply held the gaze for another beat, undisturbed at being caught staring, and then looked away as he walked to another section of the station and away from the promenade.

Weird…

* * *

Weyoun walked along the corridor, silently calculating the day's events so far. He weaved expertly along, having memorized the station's schematics long ago. This gave him ample time to focus almost entirely on this red-haired _nuisance_ of a human.

That _boy_ —because though he appeared tall and lanky, he looked much similar in age to young Jake Sisko, a tiny bit awkward in his own skin in a way. Weyoun knew from his studies of his adversaries that human children, specifically males, developed into adolescence in this way. So if he were to guess, Milo was near adulthood, but not quite there. Which made this situation all the odder. What was a human youth doing on this station? _Alone_? Jake had a reason, a bad one but a reason nonetheless (Weyoun made a mental note to reject Jake's latest submission again—it was still _aggravatingly_ biased against the Dominion). Perhaps this 'Milo' was a part of some covert organization, or better yet, a surgically altered spy undercover to test the Dominion's scruples on child-killing policies. Maybe in some desperate ploy they assumed they would take it easy on a child. This was madness of course. Because should the Dominion uncover that this human boy was in fact some sort of spy, there would be no hesitation but to execute him. Child or not, this was war.

Weyoun stopped abruptly a moment when his thoughts came to this. He was capable of it, sure…but he did feel some…regret if things came to that. His mind was very much for protecting the Dominion, and by a far more important extension, the Founders. But some instinct deep inside himself said to protect this human. Weyoun nearly let out a growl, and continued onward to his quarters. _As if._ This Milo person was just another Terran. He had barely been there a day and had managed to attract attention to himself. If he was a spy, he was a very _bad_ one. He snorted. Imagine, sitting there with the _Evil Weyoun_ (for he knew what those Federation-sympathetic fools whispered behind his back—he had excellent hearing after all), chatting over breakfast as they were earlier. Simply scandalous if Milo was supposed to be working for the other side. Besides, surely they knew Weyoun could spot a spy a parsec away. And this Milo human was just not one.

Or if he were, as he was inclined to think, he was indeed a very, very bad spy.

The wee diplomat finally reached the door to his quarters, unlocked it and walked in, determined to do some research now that he had the time. It was past normal lunch hours, but it was no matter. He was used to skipping a meal or two in favor of his work. It was his purpose. Anything else was superfluous.

Weyoun still felt odd in this room. Mostly because he knew the former occupant. Dr. Julian Bashir. In fact, most of Bashir's things were still there. Weyoun had just piled them in the closet. Neatly, somewhat. He had also felt at odds handling the personal effects of not only an almost-stranger (since he and the doctor had never really been direct associates) but an effective enemy to boot. At least they were out of sight, out of mind.

Well, except for this particular strange, little stuffed creature. While gathering most of the doctor's personal effects, Weyoun had happened upon it. It was brown and fuzzy, soft to the touch, with buttons placed to look like two eyes. Weyoun had consulted the computer and found out it was an old earth toy called a 'Teddy Bear'. He had seen similar items on other worlds he had been sent to in the Gamma Quadrant, but never had he been up close to one belonging to someone he knew like this. He had held it reverently for a moment upon finding it and then set it gently on his windowsill. It was disturbingly intimate for him to know Bashir had this and obviously cherished it. It had been right by his bedside. And Weyoun knew from declassified personnel records that Bashir had no offspring. Therefore, it was his. So, with Weyoun's curiosity piqued for human customs such as this, he had left this personal item out to be considered when he had more time.

As for Weyoun's _own_ personal items, he had none other than his clothes (all uniforms, to be precise) and a few items of technology that were of Gamma Quadrant origin. But still somehow he had managed to have a bit of a clutter problem. This was due to the fact that he took random things of interest, forgotten or broken things, and kept them here for examination. It was his _secret_ , and he often worried of what it meant. He honestly didn't know why he gave into the compulsion. Sometimes he would try to fix them, like a puzzle that needed solving. Much like a game he could win. And sometimes he would try to ascertain their value, to determine if the things were in some way poetic or beautiful. But these terms were still foreign to him after all these years. He knew their definitions but not how to apply them for his own judgement. It was his only true guilty pleasure, for if he were being technical, this was going against the wishes of the Founders, who had either deliberately chosen or simply overlooked giving the Vorta this inherent ability most other _solids_ seemed to have. Either way, Weyoun always felt dirty after doing this harmless exercise, and would never tell anyone he did it.

He supposed he ought to clean up though, seeing on how his secret would likely be blown right then if someone barged in on him unannounced. But no one ever came to his quarters. Not even the Founders. He was merely their servant, and servants were not worth visiting. And he had no friends. So it was safe to assume he would be left alone.

He stepped over a random chair leg he had sniped after a couple of drunk Cardassians had broken some furniture in Quark's after a brawl. He side stepped some glittered fabric scraps he had found at Garak's old clothing shop. And he pushed aside the broken checker set he managed to smuggle out of the now closed down school. At his monitor he accessed the computer system.

He was about to ask the computer for information on the human when he realized he didn't know his surname. He leaned back in his chair completely frustrated with himself. He knew humans had surnames, only the small minorities such as members who practiced more ancient cultures remained with one name. And Milo didn't strike the Vorta as the latter. No matter. Weyoun would either get the information he needed directly at their next encounter, or he would snipe some bio material like a strand of hair he would then run through the databases they had been able to access.

He continued to brood slightly in thought, trying to figure out things. It was his job to read people. He was essentially born to do it. It was in his DNA structure, carefully fixed in such a way to give him this talent. Or enhance what was already a part of him, as he was uncertain if his first incarnation had been good at such things. Memories of his past were often muddled at times and clear in others. But that was neither here nor there. At the moment, he was having some difficulty determining why he felt off when he was with the human.

It was never this way with any of the other humans he had ever come across. Captain Sisko gave off a strong aura, as was usual for a good leader. And Weyoun could feel the man's dislike of him a kilometer away. This upset him secretly, for he actually liked Sisko much better than he ever had of Dukat (though both had proven to be quite irksome). Early on, Weyoun had indeed hoped he could persuade Sisko into joining the Dominion. Then it would be _him_ Weyoun would have worked alongside, fellow liaisons for their people.

That, of course, did not work out at all.

Next on the list was Jake Sisko, the son of the Captain. Now Weyoun didn't mind the boy. Sure he found him annoying sometimes, a bit too pushy and far too stuck in his own dreams. But he had talent. Weyoun had read much of his writings even before the occupation, as they had gotten ahold of stray transmissions here and there. Jake's articles sent to Earth had been some of the transmissions intercepted. Weyoun couldn't say the boy's work was beautiful for obvious reasons, but the Vorta had been reading reports and treaties and more for decades and knew competent writing when he saw it. The boy would have done well in the Dominion, would have been of great use, just like his father.

Weyoun shook his head and sighed.

Then there were the Doctor and Chief Engineer. Bashir and O'Brien. Weyoun knew less about them as he had had minor contact with them, but he knew their accomplishments. And from their encounters, knew they were intelligent. And they took orders well while also balancing authority with creativity. Something the Jem'Hadar and even most Vorta lacked. Sadly, though, Weyoun knew they would not so blindly follow the Dominion as they did the Federation. It was a pity really.

Equally troublesome would be the Trill, Bajoran and Klingon that had been a part of the Chief of Staff. They were with Sisko in that little battleship of his, sans the Bajoran _aka Major Kira_ , as she seemed determined to plague his existence with new ways to make his job difficult. His tries at getting her to bridge the gap between himself and Odo seemed to go nowhere, and he rather felt she mocked his feelings for the Founder. But he didn't hate her, she was just…strong-willed and annoying. The trill Weyoun felt he could relate to eventually, as she had technically lived several lives as well. It was the way of her symbiotic relationship as a host. Worf though…that alien unnerved him greatly. While Weyoun didn't exactly fear him, he had a feeling the Klingon would rip him to pieces if he had the chance.

Maybe, when they would be eventually captured, Weyoun could work something out with them regardless…to have them on the side of the Dominion would be fruitful.

He twisted in his seat again. His mind had wandered. He was distracting himself. It was then he heard a scraping at his door.

He jumped up and strode warily towards it, the scratching continuing. What in the world could it be? Some bomb in an assassination attempt? Or some new game Dukat was playing to give Weyoun the willies? Or a drunk Damar who was bored and too lazy to even press the comm.

Then he heard a mewing.

His thoughts ceased and he became incurably curious. One of the few attributes the Founders could not completely eliminate in his people. He opened the door, and with a swish it opened to reveal a ginger cat sitting on the other side, a paw outstretched as if it were about to knock. It mewed again, rather pitifully like it wanted attention. It also had brilliant green eyes, which took in Weyoun's personage with equal curiosity.

"What…?" Weyoun took a step out to crane his neck to either side of the corridor. No one was there. Just this…animal.

Weyoun was about to go back inside and perhaps alert the Major of the vermin running rampant in her beloved station when the thing dashed forward and into his quarters just as the door whooshed shut.

"Hey!" He shouted and went after the thing. It dodged and leapt from his chair to the bed and then the window sill. After about five minutes, Weyoun gave up and decided to admit to defeat and call the Major to send one of her cronies to deal with it. He sat in his chair and was about to tap the comm when the ghastly animal jumped in his lap giving him a fright, quite sure this was the part where he was mauled or somehow injected with its spawn (he had never before seen or heard of a cat you see). But to his utmost surprise it began to rub its head against his chest and vibrate.

Weyoun just sat there frozen, quite unsure of what to do.

The cat huffed another mew and then curled up on the Vorta's lap, swishing its tail until it too curled about its own body. Weyoun gulped, and then became irritated after thinking what a field day Dukat would have if he found out Weyoun's demise had come from such a small… _whatever this was._

"Computer." Weyoun called, albeit softer than usual so as not to rouse the thing from its hideous slumber.

"Identify the lifeform other than myself in this room."

" _Felis catus_ , more commonly known as the _cat_. A domesticated carnivorous mammal of Earth origin." The female voice of the computer recited. Weyoun sighed in relief. So, Cardassia had its voles and Earth had its cats. Well, at least this one was more pleasant than the vole he once encountered on Dukat's ship.

And, speak of the pah-wraith, an incoming message was transferred directly here from the Gul. The cat had since scurried off somewhere in the room at the sound of the transmission's beeping, but thankfully out of site. Closing his eyes to brace himself for the likely new drama that Dukat was sure to bring, he opened his eyes again and had that almost condescending 'we're all friends here' smile as he clicked open the channel.

Gul Dukat appeared on the view screen and looked rather ruffled. "Took you long enough. I thought Vorta were supposed to be prompt?"

The man was like an itch Weyoun couldn't scratch. "My apologies, of course. I just walked in and saw you calling me." He lied. " _What can I do for you?_ "

Dukat pursed his lips like he was biting back a scathing remark. In truth he was, for each time Weyoun uttered the phrase—which was often—it felt like a broken transmission repeating itself. It annoyed the Gul to no end, but as he told Damar countless times, keeping up appearances of civility with their Dominion 'friends' was key to power in the new Galactic Order.

Unknown to him, however, was that Weyoun knew this and was playing this little game too. Once again Weyoun was reminded of Sisko's strengths compared to Dukat's failings as a leader. Sisko and Weyoun's last meeting before war broke out had been an extravagant play on words and actions to simply save face as the threat of war was finally at its fullest. And Weyoun saw that Sisko was quick to play the game, choosing his words so carefully but meaning them as well. If the Vorta hadn't been so hatefully angry at the man at the time, he would have fully appreciated the skill he used in the heat of the moment. Dukat, while not an unintelligent man, liked to think he was smarter than anyone else in any given room he was in. Weyoun was sure that had he played such a war game with _him_ , he would have allowed his vanity to consume his judgement, perhaps even believing Weyoun's false promises of a compromise. But then, Weyoun wasn't about to underestimate the Cardassian either. Which was why he was here now, listening to yet another likely complaint the man had. It was his job.

"Yes, well, I wanted to speak with you about appointing Odo to our Council."

Oh this again? Weyoun was further annoyed, as he had made it incredibly clear to the man this was his jurisdiction. His decision had been final.

"I thought this _particular conversation_ was over, Dukat." The Vorta's smile had waned into a dangerous shadow of a grin.

"Yes, of course. But I just wondered how you expect to keep our plans _uncompromised_ with him present."

Weyoun tapped on the counter three times as he held in his growing annoyance at the accusation.

"I hope you don't mean that as distasteful as you put it."

"I apologize if it came across that way." Dukat said in anything but an apologetic tone. By the Great Link, at least Weyoun _tried_ to appear genuine when he lied.

"To answer your question—as a favor to our alliance, mind you—I expect things to go as smoothly as they ever have." Dukat looked off to the side in contempt at that answer, but Weyoun continued in his pleasant fake way as usual. "Odo is a _Founder_ , and it would do you well to give him the required respect that comes from such a status, regardless of your past dealings with him. Oh yes, I read up on your…previous working relationship before the Federation moved in on the station, pushing your people out like an infected splinter." Weyoun explained with a bit of threat in his voice as Dukat peered at him with an edge of hate at the reminder of that defeat.  
"While details were vague, I gathered it was not an entirely…fair arrangement. And since he has not spoken to me about it, be thankful that for now the matter is closed."

The Female Changeling had Weyoun personally take on such research into Odo's life, past and present, and this had been one of several instances that caught his attention. The Cardassian reports from that time had spoken almost in a racist manner of his beloved Founder; how they referred to him as a tool rather than an honored being garnered new resentment in the Vorta for those reptilic bipeds. It was similar in how they spoke of the Bajorans, even now. The Dominion was well-aware of such petty disputes of race existing even within their own colonies and conquered planets, but _never_ had _anyone_ under Dominion rule spoke ill of the Founders in any capacity. It was a lesson Weyoun was sure to teach this new ally. But back to the point at hand. These same reports at least told of how Odo had done his duty exceptionally, their trust in him fairly solid—no pun intended.

"So my point is, Dukat, that we value his input, as I said before. Besides, no transmissions go in or out that I do not approve of first."

"I see. Well, you are more qualified in such matters, _of course_." Dukat meekly tilted his head in false humility.

"Of course." Weyoun agreed, glad to be done with this questioning and ready to flick the comm off. Contrary to his wishes, Dukat decided to lengthen their conversation.

"It's a pity the Founders do not seem to appreciate your hard work and might I add, pious _devotion_ to them and their cause." Dukat gave a wicked grin as he saw Weyoun tinge a faint purple blush.

"The Founders need not appreciate what is owed them by right." The Vorta said after a moment to collect his emotions.

"Of course." Dukat reiterated the phrase smoothly as a taunt. "But, I'm sure it must be difficult to perform so _exceptionally_ at a… _thankless_ job." Weyoun was glad only his torso was visible as both fists were now clenched, making his pale knuckles stark white in the action.

"It is an incomprehensible honor to serve them so closely, not that you would understand." Weyoun leveled his tone, shoving his anger down into his middle to stew later. "As I understand, your people have given up religion."

Dukat huffed a laugh. "It was a decision that saved my people." As if this was a direction of common sense the entire galaxy should follow. Weyoun merely smirked.

"I see. Just be sure to curb your _opinions_ when the subject falls on _our_ dear Founders, hmm? That will also save your people." And with that Weyoun clicked off the comm, ending the conversation. The ridiculous Gul; Weyoun hoped his threat had not been too transparently severe. Given their otherwise solid working relationship however, and the fact the Female Changeling did not seem to care one wit about Dukat, the Vorta was content to teeter on the edge of civility and decorum in order to make his message clear to the stubborn Cardassian.

He was not one to be trifled with, period.

A soft half-mew sounded at his side and he jumped slightly. Looking down he saw the Earth-Cat sitting there quietly on the floor by his chair leg and staring up at him curiously. Odd little thing…

"Alright _cat_ , time to go." Weyoun grumped, and the cat looked right at him and simply meowed in return.

He blinked, unsure if it was actually talking to him.

"Computer, are cats…sentient creatures?"


End file.
